“Turned into a rat and scurried after the rest of ’em,” said Arlorran.
“Can you seal the top of those chimneys from here?” Talia shouted.
Arlorran ran to grab a small wheel to the left of the holes. He yanked his hands back the instant he touched it. He jammed his fingers into his mouth. “Hot as new-forged steel,” he shouted, his words muffled.
Danielle sheathed her sword and ran back to the bedroom. She grabbed the torn blanket and wrapped it around her hands as she hurried toward the chimneys. Smoke rose from the blanket, and the smell of burning wool filled the room, but slowly the wheel began to turn.
“It’s too late,” Arlorran said. “Only a short hop to the surface. And even if we had closed them off faster, I don’t fancy being stuck down here with the likes of them.” He walked away, shaking his singed hand in the air. “I need a drink.”
“Can you summon Charlotte back?” Talia demanded.
Arlorran muttered Charlotte’s name, then shook his head. “Sorry. Either she or her sister finally remembered to shield her.”
He ducked through a rounded door. Danielle caught a glimpse of bare stone walls and wooden barrels. Arlorran reappeared a moment later with a bottle of pale blue liquid, shutting the door behind him. He nudged the blanket with his foot. “Genuine unicorn hair, that was. At least, that’s what the fellow who sold it to me said.” He sniffed the air. “Smells like lamb wool to me, though.”
Danielle looked around for somewhere to sit. This room appeared to be some kind of study. Like the bedroom, the ceiling was made of quartz. Here, the crystal had been cut into flat facets that reflected the candlelight back to the far side of the room, where a worn, heavily padded rocking chair sat. Dust and flakes of stone covered the floor. Danielle could see tiny tracks where the rats had scurried back and forth.
A rack of stonecarving chisels and hammers hung on one wall. “Planning to carve myself a proper kitchen one of these days, but I never seem to get around to it.” Arlorran stepped toward the rocking chair, but Snow was faster. She grabbed Danielle and dragged her to the chair.
“Pull back your sleeve,” Snow said. “Let me see that arm.”
“It’s nothing.” Danielle flexed her arm to demonstrate. “You drove him back before—”
“
I’m
the healer,” Snow interrupted, with no trace of playfulness. She tugged the sword from Danielle’s hand and set it on the floor. Then she unbuttoned Danielle’s cuff and folded back the sleeve. “I get to say whether it’s nothing.”
“But it doesn’t even hurt.”
“Listen to your friend, lass,” said Arlorran. “You don’t fool around with wounds from one such as that.”
Snow sucked air through her teeth, pulling Danielle’s attention back to her arm.
“What did it do to me?” Danielle whispered.
The skin was unbroken, but Danielle could clearly see where the shadow had grabbed her. Pale, dry skin had already begun to flake away. She touched one of the dark freckles that hadn’t been there before. They reminded her of age spots.
Snow gently pinched her arm, then let go. The skin was dry and wrinkled, and retained the impression of Snow’s fingers for several heartbeats.
“What was that thing?” Danielle asked.
Arlorran shook his head. “Listen, Princesses. I vowed to help you, whether I like it or not.” He took a swig from his bottle. “So I’ll tell you this much. Your stepsister gave you some good advice. I’d get out of Fairytown if I were you. The sooner the better.” He kept glancing behind, at the closed chimneys.
“Her skin looks like his,” said Talia, pointing to Arlorran. “It looks
old
.”
“Hey, now. None of that.” Arlorran moved toward Snow. “She’s right about the aging, though. If it were me, I’d cast that light trick of yours again. Might help destroy any leftover power in the wound. Might not, either. Who knows? You’re just lucky he didn’t hold on any longer.”
Danielle turned her face away as the light flared. Warmth like sunlight spread over her arm, sending tingles through the old skin.
“The effects don’t run deep,” Snow said. She put one hand on Danielle’s arm and closed her eyes. “It brushed the muscle. You may feel a little weak, but that should pass over the next few weeks, as the skin and muscle grow back.”
“You still haven’t told us what that was,” Talia said.
Arlorran scowled and set his wine on the floor. “’Twas a darkling,” he said softly. “Offspring of the Dark Man himself.”
“I’ve read of him,” said Snow. “He’s a servant of the fairy queen. They say his touch can cause a man to wither away between one breath and the next. If he’s merciful, he simply shrivels a limb or turns your eyes to dust.”
“Does this mean the queen is involved after all?” Danielle asked.
Arlorran gave a violent shake of his head. “The Dark Man serves the queen, and none other. But his children, they’re another matter. Wild and evil, they are. Casteless, too.”
“The Dark Man is the queen’s assassin.” Snow turned to Arlorran. “I’ve never heard of him having children.”
“Lots of things humans don’t know about fairies,” Arlorran said.
“Why would a darkling serve Charlotte and Stacia?” Danielle asked, trying to assimilate it all. A mere four months earlier, she had been living at home, suffering only the mundane torments of her stepsisters. Ashes ground into her blankets, or old eggs tucked away at the bottom of her trunk until the smell infested every garment she owned. She looked at her arm and shuddered. What would have happened if Snow hadn’t driven the darkling from her arm? She yanked her sleeve down, covering the aged flesh.
“That’s the meat of it, that is,” said Arlorran. “Darklings serve neither king nor queen. Even the Dark Man can’t control them. The queen gave orders that any of those shadow-loving bastards who set foot on her land are to be destroyed. Not that most folks are likely to take on a darkling.”
“So who do they serve?” asked Talia.
Arlorran shook his head. “Looks like they serve the princess’ stepsisters, don’t it?” He began to pace back and forth, circling away from the chimneys. “I’m telling you, this is more than you bargained for. Charlotte might not be much to look at when it comes to magic, but Stacia was strong enough to manipulate my own summoning, and not one witch in a hundred could do that. If she’s got darklings scurrying after her as well. . . .”
“You promised to help us,” Danielle said. “I need to know where they’ve gone.”
“I
am
helping you, Princess. You don’t want to find those beasts.”
Danielle picked up her sword. Darkling blood still clung to the glass. “We hurt him as much as he hurt me,” she said. She walked to the chimney and grabbed the blanket, searching for an unburned patch, which she used to wipe the blade.
Arlorran shook his head, but didn’t answer.
Behind him, Snow winked at Danielle. “This is where you used to talk to me,” she said, putting a hand on Arlorran’s shoulder and guiding him toward the rocking chair. The chair was wide enough for her to squeeze in beside him. She pointed toward the ceiling. “Your image always had a pink tinge to it. I hadn’t realized you could enchant quartz as a scrying surface.”
“Took years to get it polished fine enough to hold the spell,” Arlorran said. He turned his head to one side and let out a quiet belch.
“So why did you stop talking to me?” Snow’s lower lip jutted out slightly. “It’s been almost a month. Do you know how lonely it gets down there in my library?”
Arlorran shook his head. “Lass, I’m well over two centuries old. Do you really think you can flirt the truth from me with those long eyelashes and big—”
“Let’s find out,” said Snow. She kissed the tip of his ear, then twirled his beard around her index finger. “I really did miss you, you know.”
“It’s been a rough time for me,” Arlorran said, patting her hand.
Talia snorted. “Us, too. We’re the ones fighting assassins and demons and darklings, remember?”
“Be nice.” Snow stuck out her tongue.
“You’re a nice girl,” Arlorran said. “All of you are.” He frowned at Talia. “Well, maybe not all of you. Point is, I don’t want to see you get hurt.”
Snow smiled and ran a fingernail along the edge of his ear. “Arlorran, do you really think my friends are just going to give up and go home? We’re going after Charlotte and Stacia, and I’m the one who’ll have to protect us against their magic. Don’t you think I’m better off knowing what it is I’m fighting?”
“You’re better off getting as far away from here—” He glanced at Danielle, then Talia. “By Mallenwar’s third teat, you’re all too stubborn for your own good, aren’t you?”
Snow kissed his cheek. “Pretty much.”
“Come with me.” Arlorran led them back into the bedroom, where he spread his hands. “The one you’re looking for is here, carved in quartz. I’ll give you an hour. Choose the right carving, and I’ll help you catch your stepsisters. If you don’t find it, you go home and live to be crotchety old grandmothers.”
“I hate fairies,” Talia said.
Danielle stared at the sparkling quartz. There had to be hundreds, even thousands of carvings. They would need days to examine them all. “By the time we find the right one, my stepsisters will be long gone.”
“Don’t worry, Princess.” Snow smiled and climbed onto the bed. “Mirror, mirror, shining bright. Mark the clue with morning’s light.”
“Hey, that’s cheating, that is!” Arlorran hurried after Snow, but he was too late. A beam of warm sunlight cut through the air, and one figure on the ceiling began to glow.
Bits of metal gleamed among the quartz. Danielle held up her hand to block Snow’s light, which was a little blinding. She craned her head, trying to see the inverted image.
A near-vertical crack in the quartz had been carefully etched to resemble a cliff. At the top of the cliff stood the fairy king and queen, crowned with gold. Tiny winged men and women surrounded them, while others floated in front of the cliff, their wings so thin Danielle could have snapped them with her fingers. Nearly invisible needles of quartz connected the flying fairies to the rest of the ceiling. Deep down, at the bottom of the crack, a layer of clear quartz had been bonded to the rock. Danielle could just make out the shapes of pink fish beneath the water. She wondered how Arlorran had managed such intricate layering. Her father would have been fascinated.
“Dewdrop’s Dance,” Arlorran said. He pointed to one of the winged figures. “Dewdrop was a pixie, one of the most gifted airdancers ever known. He led this performance to celebrate the hundredth anniversary of the queen’s rule.” He shook his head. “Later on, he started spying on the queen for the king. She found out and fed him to the griffins. But he could fly like a dragon in springtime, Dewdrop could.”
“Snow’s light wasn’t shining on Dewdrop,” Danielle said. She peered more closely. The light had sunk into the crack, near the bottom . . . there. The clear quartz was smokier here, but she could make out a face beneath the water. A woman with long hair peered up at the dance. A line of silver circled her brow. “Who is this?”
“Damn my artistic integrity,” said Arlorran.
“This crack is supposed to be the chasm, Malindar’s Triumph, isn’t it?” Talia asked.
Snow dimmed her light as she crowded beside Danielle. “Why is she wearing a crown? I’ve never heard of another fairy royal.”
“She’s no royal,” Arlorran said.
Danielle reached out to touch the “water.” The quartz was cool and smooth as glass. This was no human city, spreading out across the land. This was Fairytown, and its inhabitants lived in all directions, from the pixies and their tavern in the treetops to Arlorran and his underground home. “How deep is the crevasse? What lies beneath the water?”
“The bones of those who go poking about where they shouldn’t,” snapped Arlorran. “Dark creatures who’ll tear you apart before you can say, ‘I should have listened to old Arlorran.’”
“We found her,” Danielle said, tapping the rock. “Tell us what we need to know.”
Slowly, Arlorran nodded. “A deal’s a deal.” He stomped back into the study. “Come on, then. This will take time to explain, and if you mean to reach the chasm before your stepsisters, you’ll need help.”
“Thank you,” said Danielle.
Arlorran hesitated. “Don’t thank me, Princess. I’m doing you no favor.”
With those words, he took their hands, and once again Danielle found herself falling into darkness.
CHAPTER 9
T
HEY EMERGED AT the base of an enormous iron tower, beside a mud-slick road. The tower’s twin stood on the opposite side of the road, with walkways and tubular passages connecting the two like an enormous ladder. A low mist turned the air cool and damp.
Glowing pixies darted around the walkways to cling to the sides. Most of them appeared to be polishing the walls.
Spikes of all sizes covered the towers. Close to the ground, they were the size of sword blades. They grew larger the higher one looked. The three enormous spears jutting out from the tip of each tower could have skewered a giant. Harsh and cruel as the towers appeared, they blended perfectly with the great hedge which passed behind them.